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The walk to the therapist's office was hard for me. En route I saw our old spots. Not even my neighborhood is safe, I think about him in every little detail. When I talk to people and I feel compelled to say our old internal jokes, I feel I swallow bullets of grief. I can't keep those jokes alive anymore even if I have the best memories attached to them.

My session with Ellen was good. I immediately started bawling and told her that her office reminded me of my problems I couldn't solve. We spoke about the problem and after I told her everything I had to lay down. The walls were spinning all around me and I felt like I was going to have to do so much work to get over how meaningful our relationship is. She told me I'm strong, she commended my ability to stay away from escapism even if I've abandoned the games I loved playing. I told her I uninstalled things that were meaningful to me and that I was raw dogging life so I could process everything without leaving any reserves.

The first thing she asked me is if I want to commit suicide. She asked me if I had any plans to do it, and I told her I knew how I'd try to since before I met her. I didn't lie to her, I would never. I told her about the outpour of support I got since the day it happened. I told her about my Grandfather's passing and how painful it had been to go through it without very much of Chris' support. His form of support was asking me if I felt better about a couple of times, a light pat on the shoulder and a brief hug here and there unless I asked for more when he was in the mood to do it. I wonder if it's normal for support to feel this hollow, but when I look back I know I've had really strong hugs and heartfelt words of encouragement. I don't want to be critical of him but it really confused me as to why I couldn't get what I needed. He explained it to me many times why it was the way it was, and trust me I won't soon forget. I have his grievances recorded in my memory.

The most support he gave me in December were the two predictive dreams he had. We got married twice (three times, actually...) in his dreams. Around the second time it happened, in the dream we lived in a funeral home and were getting married either before or after the funeral. I can't recall, but by then my Grandfather was in the hospital on life support. He was on life support for a month. Chris would beat his chest and say he was there for me, but he wasn't really. He did it because I pleaded for it and because I would literally pull his arms around me and tell him to squeeze. He sure made up for it in other ways; taking me out, introducing me to games he supposedly bought for us to try. (He'd have bought them anyway, don't bullshit me.) He treated me really well when he wanted to. When he was inspired to be romantic, I was so struck by the glamour. It filled me with a rush and with desire, and it reaffirmed that I must keep going to keep that spark alive. I'm a broken record at this point. I feel passionate love and I can't express it to the source anymore.

Telling Ellen about what happened to me was very difficult. I thought I saw her eyes water up but I was too busy wailing to really care about what was happening in my surroundings. I felt grateful I had a psychologist that made me feel cared for. I didn't feel like a lab project. I told her I feel like I'm having drug addiction withdrawals even though I don't do drugs. It was the toughest session I've had with her. I asked her if she saw visible signs of trauma and she told me that she did. She said it was different from clinical depression but that it would still linger and affect me for a while.

Since this all happened, I've talked to Niki and Silvia. Niki came through with some killer advice, and true to how I remember her said some pretty cruel things also that made me laugh. She has this talent where she takes one look at a situation and she delivers a one-liner of destruction. I've missed it. I would never tell anybody what she said to me but I was humored by the bite in her words. I loved our friendship so much. Silvia came through with the usual blunt and hard to swallow truths, she blamed him for her distance and told me she wasn't mad at me. I felt very comforted by both their support, as well as by everybody else's. So many Cloak & Dagger members have reached out to me with generous offers of support. Even if we're not close and won't be after my recovery process, I've had lots of people try to be there for me and I am immensely grateful.

I love him so much still. I don't wish to speak ill of him. I'm very upset and resentful towards him for being cold and calloused, but he often had been even if not every time. I can't say I was satisfied with his attempts because they seemed brief and without heart. I know he did try to support me as best as he could and he tried multiple times, but his attempts were shallow in comparison to what I have had and how others have been there for me. They were shallow in that I felt hollow, I didn't feel like he wanted to be doing it. He just wanted to do it as fast as he could so he could go back to playing video games, to get his depressive girlfriend out of his hair.

Day three. This is Hell. I'm going to keep trying my best. I'm waiting for clarity of mind still, this brain fog has been keeping me from doing much.

EDIT:
I finally managed to come back to listening to music regularly, although I have to be careful with the songs that I choose. IAMX's Alive In New Light was cathartic even if it brought tears. I took out an IAMX journal I have from one of the tours, fortunately it was at my desk. It looks like Moleskine journal and it has an embossed {x} on the cover. I can't start it until I finish the previous and the previous one is currently well out of sight, so we will see when I finally collect myself and can write the story down. Or maybe I never will, I don't know.

I realized my weekends will never be the same again and that was absolutely a downer. I don't know what I'm going to do with all this time other than work. But all work and no play makes Leelah a dull girl.

I can't say I feel any better but I am hoping that with each passing day I can recover a little more of my integrity.

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XXX  INTJ ♎ March Hare ♡♡This blog is about divination, tarot, gothic lifestyle, diary-keeping, design, and illustration. It is meant to educate and to spread enthusiasm for divination as a tool for self-empowerment.
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